3 as in the hundreds of times that I had told them I was okay

It is not exactly, but approximately. Every day, my parents called. They wanted to see how I was doing, if I had seen the light yet, or if I had eaten. They seemed to believe that some miracle would happen and I would survive and get married and have kids.

My girlfriend wanted to get angry at me for not telling her sooner. She seemed to have thought that she could have helped me in a way. Like her knowing would have helped me add some more years to my life.

I knew the truth. The doctor even showed me my brain and pointed at where the problem was. A few more weeks before I would be dying.

I was starting to think about death a lot. How it would feel like. If it would truly be better than being alive.

Knowing that I left everyone in pain, would I even enjoy myself? I mean, if I would not be going to hell.

Heaven. Hell. Did that even exist?

Advertisements

Your thoughts.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s